Finding Out
by Lorewen
Summary: Peter told Tirian that his parents did not know about Narnia, but what if they had known? How might they have found out? And by the way, just how did the Four meet Polly Plummer and find out about the Professor's role in Narnia's history?
1. Father

**I do not own any of these characters, or Narnia itself.**

I had spent precious little time with my children since the war started. First I became very busy at the office and was not at home much. Then I enlisted and got shipped off to fight. Even after a German bullet ended my military service and sent me home in a wheelchair, I had not been able to see them right away, because they had been at a stranger's house in the country, being sheltered from the air-raids. No sooner had the evacuations ended, then the school year began, and the boys and Susan headed off to get educated, leaving me wondering if I would ever be able to say I knew them again.

Of course Lucy was not old enough for boarding school, and she brightened up our little house more than I had imagined anyone could do (except Helen, but that was different). Strangely enough, little Lucy seemed to understand pretty well how I felt about the war, the loss of my leg, and everything else I was dealing with just then. She was almost as much comfort to me as my darling wife in those first terrible months after I came home.

Then the other children returned and I found myself caught up in the celebration of the Christmas season despite everything. My sons and daughters seemed determined to help me recover from it all, and to my surprise, they knew pretty well how to go about it.

Edmund got me talking to him for hours about all that had happened at the front, and he knew just what to say to ease my heart about the people I had killed and the comrades I had seen die. I didn't intend to tell him about it because he was pretty young for such a horrible tale, but he drew me out and I found myself drinking in his words as I would those of a much older man with more wartime experience than I had. He gave me new hope.

Lucy insisted that I join in every Christmas activity, whether I felt like it or not. Her constant cheerfulness was catching, and her firm belief that all would one day be right with the world bolstered my own wavering faith in God. She gave me new joy.

Peter convinced me that even in a wheelchair I did not need to sit back and watch helplessly as Hitler swept across Europe. There were things I could still do for my country, ways that I could still help defend England. I found myself taking his advice as though he were older and wiser than I. He gave me new strength.

Susan quietly tended to my every need almost before I knew I needed anything. She made sure I was as comfortable as possible all the time, and she held my hand and spoke softly to me whenever she saw that my leg was causing me pain. When the longing to romp with my sons in the snow overcame me, Susan put her arms around me and shared in my grief. She was there in my worst moments when I could not help weeping for all that I had lost. I found myself depending on her for the kind of support and comfort that I had not received, or wanted, since my mother died years before. She gave me new peace.

Now the children's Christmas holidays were coming to an end. Peter and Edmund had returned to Hendon House that morning, but the schedule at St. Finbar's allowed Susan an extra day at home before she had to catch her own train.

Following a long-standing tradition, Helen went to visit Alberta two days before the New Year, and intended to return just before Susan left. Lucy went with her. That left me alone with my oldest daughter, and I dedicated the whole day to her. I sat in her room while she packed her school trunk, invited her out for a walk in the afternoon, and talked and laughed with her the whole day through. It was wonderful to be able to laugh again after the darkness of the past few months.

That night when we went to bed, Susan suggested that we leave both our bedroom doors open, since her room was right across the hall from mine. She said that if I needed anything during the night she would be delighted to be allowed to help me, and with the doors open it would be easy for me to call her. Of course I had no intention of actually waking her, but I wanted to please her, so I agreed to her plan.

I won't tell you exactly what I dreamed that night, but it involved the war front, and apparently I cried out. No surprise there; I had dreamed of the war frequently when I first came home, and even though the dreams had been coming less often lately, they did still come. Helen was getting quite good at waking me up when I cried out and reassuring me that I was home.

This night, though, Helen was not there. I woke to find Susan sitting beside me, holding my hand and running her fingers through my hair. She was murmuring soft words of comfort and reassurance to me. She seemed as familiar with this task as Helen was-until I turned the light on and looked at her more closely. Her face was strangely pale and I was sure there were tears in her eyes.

"Did I frighten you, my dear girl?"

She laughed a little even as she wiped away the telltale drops. "No, father, I'm kind of used to soldiers' dreams. Actually, I'm glad you woke me, because I was in the middle of a nightmare about Rabadash."

I started to ask her about Rabadash, but stopped as I realized what she had said about soldiers' dreams. How could she be used to such a thing? There were other things I didn't understand about her too, so I decided to go straight to the heart of the issue.

"Susan, you and your siblings have really changed since I left for the war, and I can't help thinking that it wasn't just the war that caused it. Something has happened. Won't you tell your father what it was?"

Susan had recovered most of her natural color by now anyway, but at my question she blushed (rather prettily, I thought).

"I-We had some rather strange adventures during the evacuation. They changed us more even than you know, but I am not sure how much I can tell you without making you think I'm crazy."

I took her face in my hands and looked into her eyes. "Trust me, my darling daughter. Tell me everything."

Indecision flickered in her face, and those beautiful blue eyes seemed almost to be reading my heart to see how I would respond to her story. It hurt that she was not sure she could trust me, but I supposed that was the price I had to pay for not being part of her life lately. Then she smiled suddenly and breathed a long sigh.

"It all started when we were exploring the Professor's house one day..."


	2. Mother

**I do not own any of these characters, or Narnia itself.**

I woke up shivering. My absurd sister always insisted on having all the windows open in her house, no matter how cold the weather. Lucy and I had brought extra blankets from home, but tonight it just wasn't enough. I snuggled closer to my sleeping daughter, but she was too cold herself to warm me up much. Reluctantly, I slid out of bed, determined to get a little warmth.

As I struggled to close the window (which had probably not been closed since my last visit), I heard Lucy stirring in her sleep. Suddenly the window gave way and slammed shut before I could stop it. Lucy jerked upright, and I hurried back to her side.

"It's all right, Lucy," I whispered as I scrambled under the blankets. "I was just closing the window so it won't be quite so cold in here."

Lucy ran her hand over the blankets and peered at me through the darkness, as if she did not quite know where she was. "Susan?"

I took her hand and laid it on my cheek. "No, dear. It's Mother."

"Oh." The single syllable sounded terribly flat and dejected. "We're in England, aren't we?"

I nodded, and my little girl flopped down beside me and turned her face to the wall. Confused and worried, I lay there for a few minutes wondering what was so wrong with being in England. Lucy had never been anywhere else. Then I heard a muffled sob.

"Lucy? Whatever is the matter?"

To my great surprise, she rolled over and flung her arms around me. "Oh, Mum! I dreamed about home, and it was so beautiful, and I was about to join in the Great Snow Dance even though I knew I would get a snowball in my face, and the music was so lovely, and I miss it so much!"

I rubbed her back and let her cry for a little while, and when her tears began to subside, I spoke soothingly to her.

"Don't worry, Lu. We're going home tomorrow morning, and then you won't have to be homesick anymore."

She shook her head. "I don't mean Finchley. I mean Narnia. Oh, Mum, I'm tired of keeping fifteen years of my life secret from you. You're my mother, and it's time I told you the truth."

"I-I'd appreciate that, Lucy," I managed to say through my shock. How in the world could my nine-year-old daughter have spent fifteen years of her life away from me?

She sat up and smiled at me through her tears. "It was while we were at the Professor's house. I found a wardrobe full of lovely fur coats..."


	3. Polly

**This chapter has a little different tone than the last two-no late confidences or dreams of Narnia. I hope you like it!**

 **I only own Smith and Armsby, and the unnamed "tutor," who I think must be from Archenland or one of the islands, since a human's center of balance is completely different from any other Narnian's. Hopefully you'll understand what I'm talking about by the end of the chapter. Enjoy!**

I knew it was a bad idea to go for a walk today, with all the pupils coming back to Hendon House after the holidays. The streets would be crowded with rowdy boys eager for a last bit of Christmas fun before they had to settle down to their studies (as much as some of them _ever_ settled down). But it was such a lovely winter day that I couldn't resist stepping out for a bit.

All went well at first. It _was_ a beautiful day, and I enjoyed myself immensely. But then a couple of particularly mean-looking boys spotted me and apparently decided it would be fun to mistreat me. They came very close to me on both sides and took turns insulting me. I tried to ignore them and keep walking, but the bigger one grabbed my arm.

"What's the matter, lady?" he taunted. "Too old to defend yourself?"

"Leave her alone," a voice commanded at my side. A third boy appeared out of nowhere. He was smaller than either of the others, but he faced them fearlessly. The bullies seemed taken aback for a moment.

"Come on, Pevensie! Why don't you join us?"

"Because what you're doing is wrong, and you know it as well as I do."

"You hypocrite!" the biggest boy exclaimed, letting go of my arm and advancing a step toward my defender. "You were happy enough if I let you help out a year ago, and now you condemn me? I had quite enough of your preacher-man ways last term. This term you'd best back off if you know what's good for you."

"No, Smith," Pevensie answered calmly. "I am not the boy I was a year ago, and I will not let you bully this lady."

Smith threw a punch at Pevensie's face and I gasped, but Pevensie stepped to one side and grabbed Smith's arm as it passed his head. Before I knew what was happening, Pevensie had spun around, crouched down, and straightened up again, and Smith lay stretched on his back in front of him, gasping for breath.

The other bully started toward Pevensie with a shout of rage, but my hero was ready. The bully seized the smaller boy's shirt with both hands and pulled him closer. Pevensie unexpectedly yielded to the fierce pull, throwing the other boy off balance. At the same time he swept the bully's leg out from under him and gave his shoulders a slight shove in the right direction. The boy hit the ground with all the force of a young elephant, and because he was still holding Pevensie's shirt he brought him down on top of himself, completely driving the air out of his lungs.

Before the bully could recover, Pevensie was on his feet again, ready to face Smith, who was slowly getting up from the ground, shaking his head.

"Would you like another fall, Smith, or are you going to behave like a gentleman?"

The question seemed to enrage Smith, and he aimed another punch at Pevensie, with the same results as before. By this time, the other bully had regained his breath, but he showed no intention of getting up and renewing the fight. Pevensie offered his hand and pulled him to his feet, then waved toward the boy on the ground.

"I think you'd better get Smith inside before too many people see the school's most powerful bully lying on his back in the street."

"You heard him, Armsby. Help me up!" Smith wheezed painfully. I wondered whether either of them had cracked a few ribs.

As Armsby turned his attention to his fallen leader, Pevensie took my arm and gently led me away from the scene of the conflict and into a small park, abandoned at this time of year. After brushing the snow off of a bench, he offered me a seat in a courtly manner that added to my wonder at him.

"Are you quite all right, madam? Did they hurt you at all?"

"Not a bit, thanks to you, Master Pevensie. And call me Miss Plummer, if you don't mind. Why did you do that for me?"

"Edmund, please, Miss Plummer," he smiled. "I saw a lady in danger and I defended her. How could any knight do otherwise?"

"You seem to have done otherwise last year," I prompted, wanting to hear this strange boy's story, and wondering what he meant by bringing knights into our conversation.

"Like I told Smith, I'm not the same boy I was last year. A lot happened over the holidays, and well, I grew up. He's quite right that I used to be just like him; I was worse than Armsby. But that Edmund Pevensie has gone, and I hope I never see him again."

"You intrigue me, Edmund. You look so young, and yet you display a quality of character that I have rarely seen in grown men, and never in a schoolboy. How old are you?"

"Tw-eleven."

"Tell me, where did you learn to fight like that?"

Edmund laughed at that. "You may well ask, since it isn't something that is taught in schools these days, any more than logic or seemingly anything else useful. I learned that fighting method from one of my tutors last hols."

At any other time, his somewhat cryptic answer would have aroused my curiosity, but now I was distracted by his commentary on modern schools.

"Do you know a Professor Digory Kirke, who often says such things about the schools?" I asked.

He looked quite startled. "Yes, indeed! My siblings and I evacuated to his house when London was being bombed. How do you know him?"

"We were best friends as children, and we've more or less kept in touch ever since. Now wait a minute, I think I remember something about you. Edmund Pevensie. Yes, you have a sister called Lucy, and she claimed to have found something in a wardrobe, but you said she was only pretending. Am I right?"

"Yes! How did you-the Professor wrote to you, didn't he?"

"He did indeed, last summer, and since I suspect your big change took place after that, I am sure you will tell me the truth if I ask you now: Did Lucy really find a way into Narnia?"

"Then he didn't tell you about what happened after that?"

"I assume the answer to my question is yes, but I must confess the answer to yours is no. He wrote to me on the day that he talked to your brother and sister about you and Lucy, but he has not written since. Perhaps you would like to tell me the rest of the story yourself?"

He grinned. "First you must tell me what you already know about other worlds."

"Oh, a fair amount," I grinned back. "As a matter of fact, I could tell you a few stories myself that most people would not believe, so you needn't think I will not believe yours."

"In that case, you're right. Lucy did find a way into Narnia, and I followed her into the wardrobe on her second visit. By the time I had pushed through the coats, she was out of sight in the forest, so I wandered around looking for her until I heard sleigh bells approaching. I should have run the other way, but instead I waited to meet the people on the sleigh. A dwarf was driving it, and in the back was the most evil woman I have ever met. She was very tall, with a face as white as chalk, and she called herself Queen Jadis."

I started violently. "Where in the world were you?"

He looked surprised, but answered me readily enough. "Near the western border of Narnia, in an area called Lantern Waste because of the iron lamppost that stands there in the forest."

"Near the place where the water falls over the tall cliff into a pool?"

"Fairly near, yes."

I could tell he was very confused by my knowledge of the area, but I was too impatient to explain. How could he have met Jadis _there_? "What about the Tree that stands beside the pool?"

"There is no tree beside Cauldron Pool," he said slowly. "The forest is half a mile away."

"I'm not talking about any forest! There was a single Tree, with silver leaves and the loveliest apples. It was the most important tree in all Narnia!"

I could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to figure out how I knew so much and yet so little. "The Tree of Protection has been dead for more than a hundred years."

My mind reeled with this information. A hundred years? "Has it been that long since we were there?" I whispered.

Suddenly something seemed to click in his mind, and his face lit up. "Lady Polly, from the dawn of time?" he asked eagerly.

"My name is Polly," I conceded, "and I suppose it was the dawn of time when Digory and I entered Narnia, but, well, how long ago was that, anyway?"

"Just over a thousand years. The Professor is Lord Digory? He never told us that!"

"He never told _me_ a knight of Narnia was staying in his house, either."

"Two knights," Sir Edmund corrected, "and four Sovereigns."

"What do you mean?"

"My brother and I are kings of Narnia, and our sisters are queens."

Through my shock, I gasped out the first question that came to mind. "What are you doing here?"

He sobered immediately. "Unlike King Frank and Queen Helen, we were not allowed to live out our lives and die in Narnia. We ruled for fifteen years, but then Aslan sent us back, and no one here knows we were ever gone, except you and the Professor."

My heart went out to this young man and his siblings, torn from their kingdom and even their adulthood, and holding such a secret locked in their hearts.

"Won't you tell me the story?" I asked.

At that moment we were interrupted as Digory himself came running up to us.

 **Edmund uses a method that this world calls judo, though I'm sure Archenland has a different name for it. It is mostly about balance and using your opponent's weight against him, so Ed being the smallest of the three boys is not necessarily a disadvantage. For those who are interested, the move he uses on Smith (twice) is called the Ippon Seoinage or One-Arm Shoulder Throw, and the one he uses on Armsby is the Osoto Gari or Big Outer Reap. The throw especially is rather hard to describe, particularly from the point of view of a character who has never seen it done more slowly, so I'm sorry if it's confusing. There are better descriptions and even animations and videos easily available online, so feel free to look it up!**


	4. Digory

**Last chapter! I only own Professor Anderson, Old Oak, and Peter's roommates. The Narnian word "La," meaning yes, belongs to Elecktrum. Enjoy!**

I was walking down the hall at Hendon House Boarding School, after a very enjoyable conversation with an old friend who teaches history at the school. Someone came out of the registrar's office after I passed it. This young man-for I could tell he was that from his firm, confident stride-walked along behind me without saying anything until I reached for the doorknob to leave the building.

"Let me get that for you, sir," a familiar voice offered, and Peter Pevensie stepped up beside me to open the door.

"Peter!" I exclaimed.

"Professor Kirke! I did not expect to see you here."

"Nor I you. I came to visit Professor Anderson, who is a good friend of mine. Is this your school?"

"La. Ed and I are both here. Su goes to St. Finbar's, across the road, but she won't come until tomorrow."

"And Lucy?"

"Lu isn't considered old enough for boarding school yet, and we're quite glad of it, because the environment is not very good here. Besides, this way somebody can take care of Father and Mother while the rest of us are here."

"I see. How is normal English life treating you?"

Peter grimaced. "I'd really like to talk to you about that, and other things as well, but this is not a good place for it. Would you come up to my room with me?"

"Of course."

As he closed the door of his dorm room behind us and offered me a chair, Peter seemed to be gathering his thoughts. When he spoke, the words came slowly and cautiously.

"Professor, I have been thinking about a lot of things that happened at your house. The way you knew before I said it that Lucy was more truthful than Edmund was. Your quickness to believe her incredible story. The presence of the wardrobe in your house. Your knowledge about other worlds and what they're like. The carved lion I saw on your desk."

"Has your thinking led to any conclusions?" I asked quietly.

"You said that if we ever met anyone who had had adventures like ours, we would know it. I assumed that adventures like ours meant journeys to other worlds."

I nodded without speaking and he went on.

"Sir, have you ever been to Narnia?"

Again, I nodded. "I saw Narnia created and the coronation of her first king and queen. I brought the first evil into that lovely new world, and I planted a tree to protect the people-"

"-For a time," Peter interrupted in an awed tone, "until Narnia could be established as a full-fledged country, and begin to found sister kingdoms in the lands around her." His voice began to take on the sound of a skillful bard re-telling a much-loved tale. "In the beginning, on the day that Aslan created Narnia, the Lord Digory accidently entered the land, bringing with him a great evil, a witch of terrible power, from whom he was attempting to rescue his own world. This witch escaped from Lord Digory's clutches into the Great Northern Plain, where he could neither find her nor prevent her from carrying out her evil schemes.

"Accordingly, at Aslan's command, Lord Digory traveled with his friend and companion the Lady Polly, and a winged horse called Fledge, to the far-off Garden of the West. There, at great cost, he took an Apple of Youth from the Garden and brought it back to Narnia. With that Apple, he planted the Tree which would protect Aslan's people for a time, until Narnia could be established as a full-fledged country, and begin to found sister kingdoms in the lands around her.

"For nine hundred years, the Tree of Protection stood beside Cauldron Pool, and the evil witch Jadis did not dare to approach it. But all the care of the dryads could not keep old age from its wood forever, and at last a day came when it could no longer stand under the storms of winter, but fell with a crash that has echoed through the years in the hearts of all good Narnians.

"Scarcely a week had passed after the fall of the Tree when Jadis, the White Witch, swept into our beloved Narnia, driving an army of evil creatures before her. They conquered Cair Paravel and murdered every Son of Adam and Daughter of Eve who did not flee into the neighboring lands. Then they laid waste to our lovely countryside and terrified the Narnians into submission. The Witch cast a spell of everlasting winter upon the land, and her enchantments kept Father Christmas from entering. For a hundred years, Narnia was held in her iron grip, as all who revolted were turned to stone.

"So great was the fear of her that some Narnians, even among those who had served the line of King Frank faithfully before she came, chose to join her service rather than risk her wrath. The rest of us clung to the memory of Aslan and the hope of his return. 'Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight,' we whispered to our young ones when we were sure her spies could not hear. 'At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more. When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death. And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again!' We remembered the four thrones at Cair Paravel, and we murmured the prophecy of Queen Swanwhite: 'When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone sits in Cair Paravel in throne, the evil time will be over and done.'

"How long those hundred years seemed to us who lived through them! Even the Beasts wondered sometimes if the winter would ever end, or the four thrones ever be filled. Yet we held on, and at last our faith was rewarded as winter's spell began to lift. The air grew warmer moment by moment, the birds sang with a joy they could not explain, and the voices of the river god and his daughters were heard again. The trees suddenly remembered how to leaf, and flowers lifted their half-forgotten loveliness above the quickly melting snow. Spring unfolded before our very eyes.

"Then we knew that Aslan had returned at last, and we gathered by unspoken consent at the most sacred place in all of Narnia, the Stone Table. There he came to us. Oh! The wonder and joy of that moment when he first appeared! As long as any of us lives it will not be forgotten, yet none can describe it to any who were not there. When we gazed into his golden eyes, we thought no more of the long hard winter we had just endured, nor even of the glorious spring that he had brought back to us, but only of the Lion himself. Our one burning desire was to serve him in anything he asked of us.

"In the hours that followed, he made of us an army that would follow to the death him or anyone he told us to follow, without a second thought. Then he introduced us to the High King Peter and his royal sisters, and later the Just King his brother. When the time came for battle against the Witch and her forces, it was our Kings who marched at our head, for Aslan had other work that he and the Queens must do. Though they were young and this was not yet their land, yet they risked their lives to lead us in battle, and King Edmund's lifeblood was shed as surely as was the lifeblood of the true-born Narnians who fell beside him.

"In the end, however, it was not the Kings who brought us victory, but the Lion. He charged into the battle when all seemed lost, followed by every citizen of Narnia who had ever been turned to stone by the Witch. All were alive and well once more, but they were not needed to turn the tide of the battle. That was done by Aslan himself when he slew the Witch who had so long oppressed his people, and all her evil followers fled for their lives, closely pursued by the reinforcements Aslan and the Queens had brought us.

"Then our Valiant Queen Lucy began her work. Child though she was, she went fearlessly among the dead and wounded, giving a drop of her precious cordial to all who needed it. Many who would have died on that field are still among us today because she reached them in time, our Just King Edmund being one of them. Meanwhile, our Gentle Queen Susan and the healers ministered to the needs of those were still within their aid, and Aslan himself restored those who had been turned to stone.

"The coronation of the Four was not long in coming, since they had already so abundantly proven themselves worthy of it. Then the Lion left us in their capable hands, and right well have they ruled us ever since."

Peter gave a long sigh as he finished the story. "So the tale was told every year, if not more often, by Old Oak, the patriarch of the forest. I never thought that I would actually meet the Lord Digory whose name was always spoken with such respect."

"I think over the years Narnia has forgotten certain parts of the story," I put in, thinking heavily of how much Jadis' presence in Narnia had been my own fault. "This Old Oak makes me sound much more honorable than he would if he remembered all. Several Narnians were present when Aslan made me confess how Jadis got into this world in the first place, and that I was the one who woke her from her long sleep."

But Peter was shaking his head. "Whatever they did not tell was left out on purpose because of their respect for you. I have heard the same tale from the Badgers, and they forget nothing unless they willfully decide not to remember it. I am certain the first storytellers made you sound just as honorable in the ears of King Frank as their descendants made you sound in my ears. After all, Old Oak did the same for Edmund, urging that his listeners love and honor the Just King as he did himself. He spoke no word of the treachery that Edmund committed when he first entered Narnia, because in Narnia's eyes Aslan's forgiveness erased that from Edmund's story."

For a long moment, I sat speechless, unable to find words to express how I felt. The burden of guilt that I had carried for so long was gone. I had brought a deadly enemy to the pure and innocent people of Narnia, and they had purposefully chosen to forget that. Instead of hating me for all that the Witch had done to them, they honored me for the little good that Aslan had enabled me to do for them.

Just then, two boys stumbled into the room, the smaller one supporting the other and both groaning.

"Smith! Armsby!" Peter jumped to his feet and helped them sit down on one of the beds. "What happened?"

"Your hypocrite brother, that's what!" the bigger one snapped with surprising energy. "He'll catch it one of these days!"

Peter glanced at me with worry in his eyes, and I quickly found myself promising to find Edmund and make sure he was all right. As I left the room, my young friend turned his attention to patching up the two bullies who had just fought his beloved brother. Magnificent indeed!


End file.
